Nobody's Fool
by Fresh Water Plimpy
Summary: Song-based fic, though without the lyrics. Harry has another run-in with Minister Scrimgeour.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter**

**A/N: Harry Potter has another arguement with Rufus Scrimgeour. Inspired by the song 'Nobody's Fool' by Avril Lavigne**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Nobody's Fool

Harry walked resolutely around the back garden of No. 4 Privet Drive, trying to relax his tense muscles. His uncle had just had another one of those episodes where he tried to insist that Harry was going to steal the house when they went into 'hiding', and had just unpacked the car for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Get in here, now," whispered Harry's uncle angrily. Harry looked up to see Vernon Dursley stood in the frame of the backdoor, pulling at his moustache. Harry refrained from rolling his eyes and tried to squeeze through the door past his uncle, not an easy feat when said relative is the size of a hippopotamus.

Harry stood in the kitchen, toeing one of the table legs with his shoe, hands deep in his pockets, hair flopping in his eyes, glasses sliding down his nose, "What now? I've told you, we only have a few days before Mad-Eye comes to get me and Hestia and Dedalus take you away. Or are you being selfish again? Would you honestly rather die?"

Vernon's small eyes narrowed as he looked at his nephew, deciding whether or not to overlook his rudeness. "I've had it up to here, boy," he raised his hand up to his five chins, then added, "What if we're not any safer with your lot than we are here?"

This time, Harry couldn't stop from rolling his eyes, which only angered his uncle, "Don't you roll your eyes at me, boy! I have a wife and son to care for and I can't bloody well do that if I don't have a house to live in, or a job to bring in the money!" His voice almost rising to a shout.

Harry couldn't help but smile a little at his uncles words, "Fine. Fine, I'll owl the Order and tell them not to bother with hiding you. You can go to work, rake in the money, buy all your fancy home comforts, whilst outside in the real world people are fighting, disappearing and dying. And when Voldemort catches up with you, let me know how you plan on holding him back without magic," Harry was struck by a sudden inspiration. "When he comes knocking to ask you for my whereabouts, just tell him I'm on a little…holiday. And if he kills you all…well, it's not like I'll be greatly bothered by it."

_Bingo!_

"W-what?"

Harry smirked and said, "Well, it's not like I had a great childhood, is it? As far as I'm concerned, it's no loss. He'll kill you whether you tell him where I am or not anyway. He probably thinks we're a real close-knit family or something." He snorted as he said that, knowing it was far from the truth.

"So you're going to just let this man kill us?" Vernon asked weakly.

"No. _I'm_ trying to get you to go into hiding so that he won't be able to kill you. Then, if and when I survive and he dies, you'll be free to live your lives how you want. You'll never have to see me again, either. Consider it a bonus."

"Dudley! Petunia! Get your bags back by the door, I'm repacking the car."

Harry sighed inwardly, knowing he hadn't entirely changed his uncles mind, but it was a start.

He stepped through the hallway and was about to run up the stairs when the doorbell rang. Harry pulled out his wand, one foot resting on the bottom step, and pointed it to the door. Everyone stood fearfully in the hallway, Petunia and Dudley having come out of the living room. Harry quietly stepped up to the door and looked through the spy-hole to see who was on the other side.

Harry's heart thumped against his rib cage as he saw Rufus Scrimgeour look down both ends of the street. When he looked back at the door and knocked again, Harry called out, "Who's there?" although he knew perfectly well who it was supposed to be. He just couldn't understand why the Minister for Magic would be on his doorstep, unless it was someone in disguise.

"I am Rufus Scrimgeour: Minister for Magic; previously Head of the Auror Department; and I am here to see Harry James Potter, whom I spoke to on the day of Dumbledore's funeral to request that he work for the Ministry. Your answer, regrettably, was 'no'." He sounded bitter as he said this last part and Harry remembered it only too well.

Harry had a shrewd suspicion as to why Scrimgeour was here on the doorstep and he wasn't happy with it, but he opened the door, keeping his wand pointing at the man in front of him. He heard Petunia whimper behind him and he knew she was worried that the neighbours might see his wand, but he didn't care: safety first.

"What do you want, Minister?"

"May I come in? It won't take long." Harry stepped back, letting Scrimgeour through the door, never lowering his wand, and beckoned him to the living room. When he had sat in the armchair by the fireplace, Harry asked again why Scrimgeour was here.

"Potter, I understand the position you are in. You have lost every father figure in your life, and I can understand how Dumbledore's recent death may have swayed you from doing your duty to the Ministry. However, it has now been a month since his death and surely you must now be over the initial shock of it, open to new ideals…"

Harry couldn't help it: he zoned out as soon as he knew exactly what Scrimgeour was getting at. He had come to persuade Harry to join the Ministry for the third time since Christmas at the Burrow. He had obviously chosen to change tactics. To show how he sympathises with his decisions and how he has the right to not trust the Ministry after the old toad that tried to be a teacher the year before.

He seemed to think that this would change Harry's mind but Harry could be stubborn just as much as Ginny Weasley.

Harry couldn't take it anymore. He had had enough of people trying to befriend him, hoping that by doing so they would be safe from the 'other side', when in actual fact, they were more than likely going to be killed for it.

"Minister, what I said at Christmas and the funeral still stands today. I don't want to be used as a poster boy for something that I don't agree with. Stan Shunpike is innocent, yet you still keep him in a cell and refuse to free him. I've told you this before. You want me to fight for what the Ministry is doing, to back you up in your beliefs but when it was me in my fifth year speaking out and telling the truth, no one wanted to hear it! I was supposed to be this crazed, attention-seeking boy whose brains were addled when I survived the Killing Curse!"

Harry's voice was raising in anger, his chest heaving as he fought for breath, "If Fudge had believed me when I was fourteen and asked me what you're asking now, I might have considered helping but no. He decides I've gone mental and refuses to see the truth. In the past two years alone I have seen and been in no less than _ten_ dangerous situations! In two years! Fudge wanted to kick me out of school for defending myself from Dementor's that a _Ministry employee_ sent! You still expect me to co-operate with you? I've come a long way in these past couple of years and it looks as though you've gone nowhere but made even more mistakes, throwing innocent people in jail, trusting the wrong people, befriending Death Eaters without seeing them for what they are."

Harry was completely oblivious of his relatives standing in the doorway, each face showing a different expression. Petunia's showed worry. The windows were thrown wide open and she obviously didn't want their neighbours to hear about Death Eaters, the Ministry of Magic or Dementor's. Vernon looked beyond angry. Rage at his nephew threatened to burst the vein pulsating in his temple. Dudley, however, looked awed. He had never known what his cousin had had to put up with at school, but he knew he had been in scrapes before by the letters his parents had received and shown him purely for satisfaction that there was a chance that Harry had been hurt.

"By all means, keep trying to convince me to work for you but let me tell you that my answer will be the same every single time. I'm used to people discriminating against me. I know when I'm not wanted." Here, he threw a dirty look at the Dursley's.

"I am going to fight against Voldemort, even if it's the last thing I do, because I don't want any more innocent people to die. When you finally understand that and accept it, come back to me and maybe, just maybe, we might be able to work out an agreement. For now, though, I want you to leave. We - I have packing to do for…school. Goodbye, Minister."

Harry felt a sort of savage pleasure at the look of shock of Scrimgeour's face as he escorted him out of the house. _Serves him right. Trying to get me to work for them when he knows damn well I don't want to!_

* * *

**A/N: ****The ten situations are: Voldemort's rebirth; Dementor attack; snake attack; Department of Mysteries; Centaur's in the forest with Umbridge; Katie and the necklace; Ron's poisoning; the cave; Harry and Draco's fight in the bathroom and last but not least, the battle after Dumbledore's death.**

**I actually went through the books and I think I found around forty-odd dangerous situations that Harry, at least, has been in...in seven years! I'd have popped my clogs well before then!**

**Fresh Water Plimpy =]**


End file.
